


bitter arcs

by thanatopis



Category: Original Work
Genre: Enemy Lovers, F/M, Hate Sex, Non-Graphic Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-01
Packaged: 2021-03-10 04:53:22
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,620
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27808633
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thanatopis/pseuds/thanatopis
Summary: It had been a long time coming.They had history after all; the kind that had been shaped and defined by bloodshed, war, and death.Kalyan Akarya had been Nadia Ruhza’s rival before he’d become her enemy.
Relationships: Original Female Character/Original Male Character
Kudos: 5





	bitter arcs

**Author's Note:**

> This is essentially a preview of story that I have been wanting to write for the past year. I apologize for any mistakes!

The two fugitives grappled on the hard floor inside of tent they’d set up and temporarily made their home for the night. The travel had made them weary and agitated; climbing the arid foothills into Bhagriya was a strenuous endeavor that required a patience that was wearing thin for the two travelers on the run.

The pounding in Nadia’s head hadn’t subsided; the dry heat had only exacerbated the issue and made the stinging behind her eyes all the worse. Kalyan’s mere presence continuously prodded at an unseen nerve, so it was only a matter of time before they eventually came to blows. 

It had been a long time coming.

They had _history_ after all; the kind that had been shaped and defined by bloodshed, war, and death.

Kalyan Akarya had been Nadia Ruhza’s rival before he’d become her enemy.

Their movements were an uncoordinated, frenzied blur; hands and feet landing hits that lacked any finesse or skill that spoke of their years of formal training at the Officer’s Academy. They snarled, spitting foul insults at each other that would’ve earned disciplinary action had their elders overheard.

Somewhere distantly, beyond the fury, Nadia thought of her uncle and mentor. His disappointment would’ve made her feel the greatest of shame could he had seen her—pulling at Kalyan’s dreadlocks and kicking at his body without purpose or aim. Their juvenile antics resembled that of bickering children, rather than highly skilled killers, but it felt good to let her buried frustration out on someone who she knew could bear the brunt of the rage that roared within her.

Perhaps, Kalyan might have even deserved it, Nadia thought callously.

She remembers how Kalyan had antagonized her during their years at the Officer’s Academy; how Kalyan had looked down on her for no other reason than she was a bastard, while Nadia had loathed Kalyan because he was arrogant, condescending, and most infuriatingly, he wasn’t ashamed of who he was—of who _they_ were.

Kalyan carried his birth right as God-touched with a pride that Nadia had always envied. He had been taught that his mark from the gods made him exceptional, while Nadia had been taught that it made her an outsider, an abomination—a _ketter_. If there was one thing to admire about Kalyan, she supposed, it would be that.

Nadia couldn’t pin-point the exact moment when the air in the tent shifted. Only that it seemed to suddenly dawn on Kalyan and Nadia the position in which they’d found themselves in; Kalyan pressed close between Nadia thighs, their breath mingling, adrenaline transmuting into a language both their bodies knew intimately well.

Nadia felt herself grow flush as she caught her breath. She was ashamed to admit that she didn’t find the idea of indulging her more carnal urges with Kaylan to be abhorrent—rather the opposite. She bit her lip as she weighed her options and was frivolously gratified when Kalyan’s eyes dropped quickly to her mouth.

Nadia’s heartbeat throbbed in tandem with her aching side. She was positive that Kalyan had bruised her rib, but the physical pain was welcomed. It gave Nadia something to focus on rather than the tumultuous feelings that circled and tumbled like strong draft winds.

Nadia’s chest heaved with exertion, and became all too aware with how each inhale, her breasts would press against Kalyan’s solid chest. It only heightened the point of contact where he was settled between her legs, stubborn and inflexible, pushing down onto her, keeping her immobile and pinned. Nadia smothered the rational part of her that sternly warned her that she’d come to regret this decision come morning, but the irrational part wanted to feel something pleasurable instead of the dull ache that persisted day after day without relief.

Kalyan sharply inhaled, his claws scrapping harsh lines parallel to Nadia’s head as he subtly rocked against her.

“Gods, I fucking hate you,” Kalyan husked. He truly meant it to, even as he leaned down and caught Nadia’s mouth in a bruising kiss. The cut that split her bottom lip bloomed with a stinging pain, and Nadia hissed against Kalyan’s mouth as he pulled it in-between his teeth. Nadia met Kalyan’s aggression head-on, like they were still exchanging blows instead of biting kisses.

Nadia’s hands went for the waistband of Kalyan’s trousers. She felt him harden against her thigh and planted her feet solidly onto the ground so she could roll them and feel that pressure where she wanted it most. Kalyan predicted her movement and easily shoved Nadia back into place, her breath leaving her in a wheeze when she met the ground with a solid crack. The pain was like a red-hot poker digging into her back and Nadia snarled, eyes narrowed like her gaze only could strike him dead.

“Bastard,” Nadia growled. She despised this, her belly and throat exposed, almost offering to be gutted like a calf. She had only ever allowed one man that privilege, and she’d been trying not to think of him. 

Kalyan grabbed and held both her wrists over her head with his beastly arm, and kept her pinned like a butterfly on display. Nadia’s struggles only aided in rubbing her body all over Kalyan and feeling him respond in kind.

The inside of the tent grew humid and their clothes stuck uncomfortably to their skin.

Kalyan chuckled, demeaning and cruel.

“The only unwanted mistake in this tent is you, Ruhza.”

Nadia’s nostrils flared. She had a cutting remark ready on her tongue for him—perhaps a mention of how his sister had begged Nadia to spare her life before she’d sliced through her throat like wet paper. She was more than ready to end this precarious relationship—to settle their differences once and for all—but then Kalyan’s hand slipped into the front of her leggings and thought stopped all together.

Nadia jerked in surprise, cursing Kalyan—the gods—anyone that would listen—as his fingers rubbed over the most sensitive parts of her, making her legs tremble and involuntarily widen in the growing face of her need. Her hips eagerly rolled into the press of his fingers, knowing the salacious movement would draw Kalyan’s eyes to that illicit spot. He hated her, but Kalyan was still just a man. Nadia used the distraction to break out of Kalyan’s loosened hold, using her entire body to roll them over and throw Kalyan roughly on his back where he landed with an _oof_. His hands instinctively found purchase on her waist, gripping tight.

She grinned sharply at Kalyan in response to her petty triumph, tasting blood in her mouth. Nadia didn’t give Kalyan a chance to counter as she braced her hands onto Kalyan’s chest, and ground down against his hardness with a firm circle of her hips. The hiss that ushered out of Kalyan’s mouth was rewarding, his claws dragging in hot, red lines across her flesh, threatening to break the skin. The sharp sting only made Nadia more urgent, more demanding, as she unbuckled clasps and fished her hand into Kalyan’s trousers, circling her fingers around the heat of him as she pulled him free of his confines.

Nadia was going to indulge in this without a thought to the weight of her responsibilities; she wouldn’t think of Senka, who now was Nadia’s enemy; she would think of her brother, who had been missing for months.

Kalyan was a distraction, a means to forget, if just for a moment.

“I know it’s big Ruhza,” Kalyan snickered meanly. “You just gonna look at it all day?” The condescending remark didn’t mask how he was watching her, how his hands moved to her rear and squeezed generous handfuls. After all, he was just a man.

For a moment Nadia considered getting up and leaving the tent. She imagined the satisfaction she’d feel at leaving Kalyan high and dry, and almost laughed when she thought of him angrily using his hand when he realized that she was serious. She only considered it for a moment, but it was a nice thought.

Nadia chose to ignore Kalyan’s comment and stood to hurriedly shed her leggings and undergarments. She didn’t bother removing her shirt and she didn’t ask Kalyan to shed any of his clothes as straddled him once more. Kalyan eyes were glued to the dark wiry hair between her legs and he licked over his lips in a slow pass, rolling his hips, eager. She reached back and gripped him a bit too roughly and angled her hips up and back.

The press of Kalyan inside burned, but the discomfort was a balm against the pain that bared no tangible mark. It was all inside—the self-sabotaging thoughts, the crippling doubt, the overwhelming sadness that threatened to swallow her whole. Nadia desperately clung onto that feeling as if a clever pick pocket might reach inside and take it from her. She didn’t know what she’d be without it.

Where one might hesitate or cease, Nadia stubbornly persisted, clenching her jaw as she eased the remainder of Kalyan inside. The hands on her hips gripped her tight, simply holding Nadia in place as her body gradually made room for him.

Once Nadia reached the base, she began a gradual rhythm, finding pleasure only after the fact. She rose on her feet, planting her palm on Kalyan’s tensing stomach for balance as her movements quickened, chasing her own devastation.

The slick sounds of their bodies grew louder, along with their own sounds of pleasure, until it drowned out all other noises in the tight space of the tent, leaving them isolated in a world of their own making.

Nadia threw her head back and lost herself. 


End file.
